Chapter 40: Bridal Prisoner

The ground cracked open. Camela held tightly to Vincent’s arm as dust fell from above. The torches trembled in their holders, their flames bending sideways as though scared.

Elias remained still in the middle of the shaking hall, calm as a statue. His voice rose above the chaos.

“Do you feel it, bride? The chains pulling around you?”

Camela felt her throat tighten as she responded. “Stop it…please stop!”

Vincent moved protectively in front of her, his shoulders tense and fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“You won’t touch her,” he said.

A slight smirk appeared on Elias’s face. “Touch her? Vincent, I already have.”

Camela felt a twist in her stomach. “No…”

“Liar,” Vincent growled.

The floor split wider, the marble groaning like a wounded animal. A dark mist began to rise through the cracks, wrapping around their ankles.

Camela clutched Vincent's sleeve in panic. “We have to get out of here…” she urged.

The mist climbed higher, curling like fingers reaching for them. Suddenly, chains shot out from it—iron links moving through the air like they were alive.

“Run!” Vincent yelled.

They dashed to the left, but the chains lashed out like whips. One struck the wall next to Camela’s face, shattering stone and causing her to stumble and she choked on dust.

Vincent caught her quickly as he urged her on. “Keep going…”

A chain coiled around his arm, but he pulled back with all his muscles straining, his teeth gritted in effort.

“Vincent!” Camela screamed, grabbing at the links in a desperate attempt to pull them off and free him. The iron burned her palms painfully. She cried out but refused to let go.

Elias’s calm voice pierced through the noise. “You can’t escape the vow, bride. You were promised long before you ever ran into these woods.”

Camela’s hands shook and blistered. “I don’t belong to you!” she yelled.

“You do.” Elias stepped closer, his cloak trailing behind him. “Even if Vincent tears the world apart, you will always return to me…that's what chains are for.”

With a fierce roar, Vincent tore the chain away from his arm, blood oozing from the wound. He shoved Camela behind him once more and shouted fiercely.

“Enough!”

The mist whirled fiercely before settling down, and the chains faded back into it. Elias tilted his head, examining them like game pieces on a board.

"You think you've gained an advantage for now," he said quietly. "But take a look around. Do you know where you are?"

Camela's heart raced as she forced herself to take a look at the hall.

The walls were cold stone, adorned with tall barred windows. The floor was dark marble, marked with runes that glowed softly in red. The air felt thick and damp, heavy with the smell of rust and roses.

Her stomach sank in fear. "This..." she whispered, "...this is a prison."

Elias’s smile grew sharper as he spoke. "The bridal prison. Built for one purpose: to keep you here until the wedding."

Camela felt her knees weaken. "No..."

Vincent stepped forward, rage blazing in his eyes. "She won't be your prisoner!" he said fiercely.

Elias held his gaze without flinching. "And you think you can save her? His voice dropped lower. “You couldn't even save yourself."

Vincent froze in place.

Camela squeezed his sleeve tightly. "Don’t listen…to him"

But Elias’s words seeped into Vincent like poison. "Do you remember the cellar, Vincent? The night you bled for me? You swore an oath, didn’t you? You swore to obey…"

“Shut up!” Vincent shouted, his voice booming through the hall like thunder.

The torches flickered wildly, their flames stretching long and thin as if pulled by invisible hands.

Elias moved closer, lowering his voice to a whisper meant only for them. “You belong here just as much as she does.”

Camela grabbed Vincent’s face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “No! Don’t listen! He’s manipulating you…”

But conflict raged in Vincent’s eyes as he breathed heavily in response to Elias's taunts.

Elias's shadow loomed over them both, consuming theirs completely. “Bride, groom, chains…it’s all the same.”

His eyes locked onto Camela's as he continued, “You can try to escape…or you can rot,” his stare intensified toward her.

Her blood ran cold.

The mist surged once more, and chains whipped upward.

Camela screamed as one of the chains wrapped around her waist, pulling her off the ground.

“Camela!” Vincent pounced forward, grasping her hands before the chain could drag her away.

She hung in midair, like prey caught in a web. “Vincent…don’t let go!” she yelled.

He gritted his teeth. “Never!”

Elias watched quietly, with his facial expression impossible to read.

The chain tightened around Camela, and the iron cut into her skin, making her gasp in pain. Vincent strained with all his strength, his veins bulging in his arms as he fought against the links.

Camela cried out, “It’s…burning…”

With a fierce roar, Vincent ripped the chain apart with his bare hands, and the pieces dissolved into smoke. She collapsed into his arms, trembling, with her cheek resting against his chest.

Elias’s voice echoed coldly and calmly, “You can break a link. But not the vow.”

A deep groan echoed through the chamber. Camela turned her head—and froze.

The enormous iron doors at the end of the hall were closing slowly, grinding shut as they sealed off their escape.

“No,” she whispered in disbelief.

Vincent pulled her towards the door. “We’re getting out!”

They raced forward, but the doors were almost shut; each step made the gap smaller.

“Faster!” Vincent shouted urgently.

Camela's lungs burned and her legs felt weak. She stumbled, and Vincent scooped her up into his arms and sprinted ahead.

They reached the threshold just as the last sliver of light disappeared. Vincent pushed her forward—

The doors slammed shut right in front of them with a deafening crash that shook the ground beneath them.

Darkness enveloped them completely.

Camela pounded on the iron surface with her fists in desperation. “No! Open it!”

Elias’s voice echoed from behind them. “There is no way out, bride…not until the vows are spoken.”

A sound rustled in the darkness.

Camela froze in place. “Vincent…what’s that?”

A white object sparkled in the darkness—a gown, long and flowing, draped over a stone altar.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The dress.

She stepped closer, her breathing shaky. The fabric glimmered like silk, but as she approached, she noticed something woven into it—thin black thorns, sharp as needles, concealed within the folds.

Her throat tightened.

Elias’s voice brushed against her ear even though he stood across the room. “Your wedding dress…it awaits you.”

Vincent growled, “She’s not wearing that.”

Elias’s calm gaze turned to him. “She will wear it. The gown binds the vow. Without it, the ceremony cannot take place.”

Camela shook her head vigorously. “I won’t do it. You can’t force me.”

“Can’t I?” Elias replied gently.

The gown seemed to tremble as if alive. The sleeves twitched while the skirt slowly unfurled, revealing glinting thorns.

Camela backed up against Vincent in shock. “It’s moving…”

Vincent put his arm around her shoulders protectively. “Over my dead body.”

Elias smiled faintly. “That, Vincent, can be arranged.”

Suddenly, chains shot up from the floor again and wrapped around Vincent's body.

“Vincent!” Camela yelled, desperately clawing at the links.

He fought against them with all his strength, but more chains rose to bind his arms, chest, and throat tightly. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

“No! Stop!” Camela cried out as she pounded on the chains until her hands bled.

Elias's voice remained steady. “Do you see now, bride? He belongs to them already…and to me.”

Vincent's eyes locked onto hers fiercely through his pain as he muttered, “Don’t let them take you…”

Tears streamed down her cheeks like fire. “I won’t leave you…”

The chains yanked him backward across the floor violently. Camela pounced forward, catching his hand. “I won’t! I won't…”

But the chains tore him from her grip and slammed him against the altar beside the gown.

Camela cried out, her body falling forward. “No!”

Elias looked at her with a gentle expression. “You’ll understand soon. Love is not freedom. Love is possession.”

The gown lifted into the air. Camela gasped as unseen hands raised it from the altar, making it glide toward her with its skirts trailing behind and thorns glistening startlingly.

She stumbled back until she hit the wall. “Stay away!” she shouted.

The gown twisted above her, its sleeves spreading like welcoming arms while the thorns shook, eager for contact.

Camela began to cry. “Vincent…”

He struggled against his chains, blood trickling from his wrists. “Camela! Fight it…”

But the gown drew nearer, its fabric brushing against her arm. The sharp thorns pricked her skin, drawing a thin stream of blood.

She screamed, pulling back. “No!”

A whisper filled her ears—not Elias’s voice or Vincent’s—but a different, cold female voice:

“You belong to me, bride.”

Camela froze in fear, shaking. “Who…who are you?”

The fabric of the gown brushed against her cheek, the thorns caressing her like claws.

The whisper returned softly. “The First Bride.”

Chills ran through Camela’s veins.

Vincent yelled furiously as he fought against his bonds. “Don’t touch her!”

The thorns pressed harder, pinning Camela against the wall as the whisper purred closer to her ear.

“You will wear me. Or you will rot where you stand.”

Camela trembled, pressing her hands flat against the cold stone surface. “I won’t do it! I won’t become you…”

The voice only laughed in response.

Elias stood quietly in the dark, his expression remaining unreadable.

The gown expanded further, its shadow engulfing hers while the thorns curled around her wrists like chains.

And in the dim light, the whisper echoed once more with an icy finality:

“Bride, there is no escape for you. You can only take my place.”

The thorns dug deeper into her skin.

Camela screamed—

And then the hall went dark.